The Guy at the Train Station
by Ninkita
Summary: How a train-station piano in Paris united Bella Swan, intrepid backpacker, with her one, true love. *Honorable Mention in the Straight Thru the Heart Contest*
**Disclaimer:** The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **A/N:** This was my entry to the Straight Thru the Heart contest, and while it didn't win anything, it did get an Honorable Mention. The story was inspired by a video I saw where two strangers came together to play a piano at a train station in Paris. Check out 'Paris train station piano' on youtube, it should be one of the first videos on the list.

I wrote this lazy fic and then sent it over to NewTwilightFan, who is amazing, and wonderful, and all kinds of other good things. She said that seeing as everyone else got an HEA, Mike deserved a little happiness as well. I love you, Maggie. I bet if you ask Mike, he'd say the same thing :)

..._...

Travelling is fun. Travelling around Europe with no agenda but to enjoy myself is spectacular fun. Having to bat off all the attention I've been getting is... a little surprising. I've only been travelling for two weeks so far, and getting hit on regularly is getting really old really fast. Is this what the pretty girls deal with all the time? See, I'm not a knockout or bombshell, not by a long shot. I'm as near boringly normal as you can get. So I'm thinking, men either have some crazy fantasy about single girl backpackers, or I got in the way of a random shower of fairy dust or something when I stepped off the airplane.

It's been pretty crazy, honestly, and while I'm not complaining about all the random acts of chivalry, cause yeah, having doors held open and guys with cute accents stopping to let you go by first and oh, all the free drinks in bars... all that makes you feel pretty special, and happy, and a little drunk on your own awesomeness. But there's only so much of it a girl can take. I draw the line at guys fighting it out for the 'honor of pulling out mademoiselle's chair'. I kid you not. That really happened last night, at a charming little bistro in an adorable by-lane of Paris.

Picture the scene for a moment: cute little cobbled street, round tables and elegant wrought-iron chairs, people walking by, the bustle of the busy city below, the quiet, sparkling stars above, it was like a scene out of that Van Gogh painting, all muted velvet blues and bright lights. I was high on Paris, and maybe that's why I didn't notice when Jacques and Laurent set their sights on me. Luckily they got so involved in their bickering that I was able to rush through my crème brulée and escape before they realized I was gone. It would've been amusing if it weren't so damned annoying. I really hate rushing through dessert.

After all the excitement of last night, I figured I'd rather spend a few extra hours at the train station than expose myself to more of that sort of madness. So here I am, sitting on this uncomfortable chair in the waiting area of the Gare du Nord a full hour before my train to Amsterdam is scheduled to leave. So far, I've updated my status on Facebook (custom settings, so only the people I choose can see the post), and I've put up a picture of the impressive façade of the beautiful station on Instagram and Twitter. With nothing else demanding my immediate attention, I settle down with a nice, racy paperback.

Now, it's a well known fact that people get chatty on trains, but I figured no one has that kind of time or inclination while waiting at the station, right?

Wrong. It takes all of ten minutes for this guy to land himself the empty seat beside mine. I try to hide behind my sunglasses and stay focused on my book, but persistence must be his middle name. I haven't mastered the art of telling people off, and I just can't be rude without feeling horrible, so of course I finally set aside my book and resign myself to some more painful flirtation.

Actually, 'painful' doesn't quite cut it. I'm kind of embarrassed for his sake right now. He's bumbling and inarticulate, and I think he keeps shifting around 'cause he's trying to hide a boner; but maybe I'm just being a complete bitch here. I'm seriously considering grabbing my bags and pretending it's time to board my train. Or maybe it'd be better to hide out in the restroom for the next forty minutes? Decisions, decisions. While I devise my escape plan, train-station guy is chugging along on his plan of seduction via tears of boredom. Is that even a thing, you ask. Yes, I reply, yes it is, and this guy... Mike? Mark? Something M... he's patented it. He probably drones on and on till the girls are dead or asleep, and has his wicked way with them. Damn, I think I just made him out to have more of a life than he actually does.

I tune out and just look at the guy. I'm trying to be all dispassionate and observe him without letting my annoyance color my opinion for a minute. He's nice enough looking, in a clean-cut mama's boy way. Mike/Mark's clearly a soccer fan, given that he's wearing a Barcelona jersey, but he's definitely no Lionel Messi. He's got a weird chin-fuzz thing that might have been intended to be edgy, but ends up scraggly and just indeterminate. Chin fuzz is not a good look on him. And the chin fuzz has effectively derailed my attempts at being unbiased.

"... and football, but I'm pretty musical too. I've been learning piano since I was six, so I think I'm pretty good, and..."

Wait, hold it, did he just say piano? "Did you say you play piano?" I ask. He perks up, 'cause this is the most active interest I've shown since he parked himself next to me.

He nods enthusiastically, and launches into a description of all the songs he can play, and how amazing his piano teacher thinks he is, and so on.

Right. I need to do something before he gives me a headache, so I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. "Hey, there's one of those ' _a vous de jouer_ ' pianos right there. That means 'It's your turn to play,' doesn't it? Why don't you play something?"

He looks a little taken aback at my random comment, before his expression becomes all hopeful and happy. I hope I can escape before he's done playing, because he looks like he's just discovered his soul mate in me. Gross.

Mike (I really think that might be his name) saunters over to the glossy black upright piano that's situated in the middle of the waiting area, just a few rows up from where I'm sitting. God bless the good people at the SNCF for installing these pianos at train stations. With one last look back at me, he starts to softly pick out a tune. It sounds like _Una Mattina_ , or maybe it's the theme from Braveheart… they sound pretty similar to my untrained ear… I have to admit, the guy isn't half bad. It is definitely better to listen to his fingers play than his mouth chatter.

A loud, echoing announcement on the station's PA system distracts me for a moment, drowning out the music from the piano. I cast a glance back at Mike, and end up doing a double take, nearly giving myself whiplash. A man has joined Mike at the piano. He stands off to the side for a moment, bobbing his head in time with the music, before he leans in and hits a few notes to harmonize with Mike.

I think my jaw just dropped. This man… his arms are lean and sinewy, and I can clearly make out the play of muscles in those broad shoulders as he shifts and sways with the music. I'm not exaggerating; the music seems to flow through him with every tilt of his head, every tap of his foot, it's in his very fingers as they move over the slender keys of the small upright piano.

I am mesmerized by the way his tousled hair is glinting red-gold in the sunlight filtering through the station's high windows. I shift slightly to get a clearer view of his profile, his sharp nose, the way his lip curves up, creasing his lightly tanned cheek, and drawing attention to his angular jaw. In his simple white tee-shirt and light blue, well-worn jeans, he is casually breathtaking.

A sudden rush of confusion and longing smacks the breath out of me. In the blink of an eye, it's last summer, and I'm back in Forks again.

.._..

U-Dub was fun and all, but Alice and I were glad to get away from the city for a while. The second day home in Forks, Alice called up, all excited, blabbering about her cousin Edward. He had just joined an architecture firm in Seattle, and Alice was thrilled that he'd be in the same city as us. So when he was all settled in, and came over to visit his aunt and uncle in Forks, Alice and I formed the welcoming committee.

Alice's gushing hadn't prepared me for meeting Edward at all. Thirty seconds in his company, and he had completely dismantled and reconstructed my vision of the ideal man; and the new ideal looked a lot like him.

He was possibly the most handsome man I'd ever seen, and surprisingly easy to be around. Within minutes of meeting, we were joking around as naturally as though we'd been doing it for years. The weekend he spent with us in Forks was the most fun I'd had in ages.

When we returned to Seattle, Alice and I met up with Edward frequently. He spent countless hours with the two of us, happy to drive us around, take us shopping, buy us drinks and generally spoil us silly. At one point, I was jealous of Alice for having someone that cool for a cousin.

I sometimes wondered why he spent most weekends hanging out with us when he could have been out getting laid. One time, I think Alice asked him as much, when she was a bit tipsy. He just laughed and pulled us both close, saying something lame, like, "Why would I need other women when I have two of the hottest right here with me?" You see, the guy was cheesy, but everything he said made me melt.

Beyond that, he never mentioned any women, and I was content not to know. It was definitely better for my peace of mind. Still, he made my heart flutter when he would smile at me a certain way. His green eyes dazzled me sometimes, making me lose my train of thought. In the rare moments when I was being honest with myself, I would confess that I might have a crush on him. I might even go as far as to say that I had never felt as much or as intensely for anyone else. But I pushed away those thoughts. He treated me exactly the same as Alice, so it was easy to fall into a safe, comfortable groove with him. I'd remind myself that I couldn't let messy things like feelings and hormones and lusty thoughts get in the way and ruin the fantastic relationship we had built up. So I buried my desire behind a wall of friendship, and got on with life.

When I began planning my trip to Europe, it was hardly surprising that Edward was as deeply involved as Alice. I bounced ideas off him for my itinerary, and he spent his free time researching things like cheap and safe hostels to stay in, train timetables and obscure places to visit. He even bought me the beautiful, sturdy new backpack I was now toting around.

The weekend before I set out, I was back in Forks, and freaking out, so he promised to come over and help me get past the last minute panic. He also somehow convinced Charlie, my dad, that it was a good idea to let him drive me to Seattle to catch my flight, since he was going back to the city anyway. That's just how sweet he is. Of course, he spent most of his time in Forks laughing at my nerves and derailing every attempt I made to pack. See, I told you he treated me like he would treat Alice.

It was what happened on the way to the airport that really threw me.

We set out early to avoid traffic, and it was a surprisingly clear day to boot. Add to that the way Edward 'speed-demon' Cullen usually drove, and I knew we'd reach well in time for my flight.

Imagine my surprise when he slowed down and turned onto a narrow dirt track just outside Forks. Stopping the car in the middle of nowhere, he asked me to take a quick walk with him. If it had been anyone else, I'd have run away, screaming "serial killer", but this was Edward so I just grabbed the hand he held out, and started walking through the underbrush.

Five minutes later, the trees thinned out a bit, and I saw that we were in a small clearing in the forest, about the size of a room… or maybe a swimming pool? Well not too big, not too small, you get the idea. It was beautiful, especially since the sun chose that moment to shine down on us. The dew on the leaves and grass splintered the light into sparkling, dazzling rainbows, and everything seemed to glow brighter.

I was… moved, for want of a better word, what with all the natural beauty, and being alone with Edward in the middle of nowhere, and him looking so damn delicious in that soft leather jacket and jeans that clung so faithfully to his strong, muscled thighs. I was worried I would do something stupid like jump him and hump him, so I decided to shatter the disconcertingly romantic atmosphere.

I had just opened my mouth to say something snarky about hiking to Europe instead of taking a flight, when he turned to face me. He looked a bit tense and conflicted, so I squeezed his hand and in my elegant and ladylike way, told him to just spit it out.

He rolled his eyes and pulled me closer, so we were toe-to-toe. Looking up, I could see all the different shades of green that his eyes reflected. They were even more gorgeous than the verdant wilderness I had been admiring moments ago. He took a long, deep breath and claimed my lips in a searing kiss.

I was too shocked to pull away or anything, and just stood there as he ravished my mouth with his own. This was no tentative first-time peck, it was an all-out assault on my senses. When he licked and nipped at my lower lip, I gasped. He immediately took advantage of my open mouth to gently suck and lick and tease my tongue with his. Before I even knew it, I was responding, participating wholeheartedly in the best kiss of my life. I don't even know when my hands grabbed his hair to pull him closer. I do know how amazing it felt when he ran his fingers up my back, and crushed me to his hard chest. He held me so close, it was as if he was trying to absorb my very being into his pores.

I didn't want it to end, but we needed to breathe. I nestled my nose in the crook of his neck, trying not to pant like a dog, while he scattered kisses over my forehead, temple and cheeks. His thumb caressed my jaw so tenderly that I had to blink back a tear. I felt his words vibrate through me when he spoke.

"Bella, I know you're going to have a great time in Europe. You'll see amazing things and meet new people, and I want you to have that. I want you to experience everything you have ever thought of, or dreamed of. But no matter where you go, what you do, and who you meet, I want you to know that I'm right here, thinking of you, waiting for you, missing you. I know this is crappy timing and all, but I can't let you go not knowing how much I love you. I've loved you since the first moment I met you last year. Getting to know you, every phone call, every single moment we've spent together, I just fell harder. I'm in so deep now, I can't even imagine a universe where I don't love you. I know you've never thought of me as a potential boyfriend or whatever; but maybe, while you're away, just… think of me sometimes? Think of this kiss, and if you could want more with me? See if you could want _me_?"

I was struck dumb, and I don't think I could have strung two words together to save my life. After a moment of just holding me close, he smiled that dazzling smile of his, and led me back to the car. The whole way there, my mind was running on a loop of "Oh shit, did that really happen? Was it real? Oh shit!" Suddenly, it was ok to like him, and I was having a really hard time wrapping my head around that thought.

Away from the enchantment of the forest, Edward was back to his old familiar, friendly self. I took my cue from him, and the whole drive to the airport, we acted like nothing earth-shattering had just taken place.

He waited while I checked in at the ticket counter, then hugged me tight, dropped the softest kiss on my lips, and sent me off on my adventure with a wink and a promise to stalk me on social media. Talk about romance. I boarded the plane with a big, cheesy grin on my face and a jumble of hope and disbelief inside my heart.

True to his word, he's been following my journey with greater dedication than even Charlie, and that's saying a lot. His comment is always the first on my Facebook posts and the first 'like' on my Instagram photos. His daily emails make me feel safer and braver out on my solo adventure.

The only thing that has been really bugging the shit out of me is how in all his emails and messages, he has never, not even once, mentioned the kiss, or any of the stuff that he'd said to me out in the forest. How do guys just switch their feelings on and off? It's been so frustrating having all that at the back of my mind! No matter where I go, what I see, and who I meet, it never really goes away.

It's actually kind of annoying, how I get flustered and phase out just about anywhere… the middle of a crowded bar in Dublin, a museum in York, old Roman ruins in London. Name it, and I can guarantee I've had Edward flashbacks there… the way he held me, the way his lips fit so perfectly against mine, the way he smelt, all spicy and warm.

And of course, I have spent most of my actual travel time… in the plane, on the ferry, on the train… dissecting every look, gesture and word that we'd exchanged over the course of the last year. There were so many signs that I hadn't wanted to acknowledge earlier. The way he would always place a hand at the small of my back while walking, how he'd push back my hair while we were talking, how he knew my favorite breakfast food, my allergies, the name of my first pet, everything! Gah, I'd been such a fool, thinking he was just being nice to me for Alice's sake.

Since I can't force him to share the mental agitation he's gifted me, I've been doing the next best thing. I write to him every day, telling him about my adventures, and misadventures. I shared my excitement at visiting the Bronte Sisters' house in Haworth, and how creeped out I was by the overzealous ticket guy at the Railway Museum in York, who offered me a 'private tour' with 'special perks'. I made it a point to mention how much fun I had with the group of students from Italy that I met in a London pub, and how a cute French guy I met on the ferry gave me flowers. I did not mention that he happened to be about ten years old and blushed adorably when I kissed his cheek in thanks.

I can't tell if any of this is working, though. He never seems to rise to the bait, always responding with smart-assed comments about how I should live it up, and make the most of European men's temporary insanity. He thinks he's so smart.

And to top it all, for three days now, I haven't heard a peep from him. He just stopped replying to emails, and hasn't liked or commented on a single post since I landed in Paris. I don't particularly like to confess how badly I have missed him after just three days, and how gutted I feel at his sudden absence. I have tried to put it out of my mind, but it's like he's crept inside my soul, and there's no way I can force him out of there. I've been getting pretty wound up by his silence, to tell the truth, and even made up my mind that if I didn't get a satisfactory reply by tonight, I would call him, no matter how exorbitant the cost.

Of course, unless I'm hallucinating right this moment, it looks like I won't need to. Because just a few yards away, chipping in at the piano with a bemused Mike, stands Edward Cullen.

.._..

Mike is good, but Edward is inspired. I can't hold back a smile as they start out a little awkward… listening for cues, adding riffs, until suddenly they seem to find their groove. Now, I watch them give in to the music, playing in perfect synchronicity. You'd never have guessed that they were strangers; their music sounds so divine, it's like they've practiced together for months. Both the men now sport huge grins, and are playing their hearts out, giving the entire train station a wonderful impromptu performance.

Edward quickly steps around the bench Mike is sitting on, taking on the lower keys, and signaling Mike to play the higher notes. I'm in awe, as I see him engage with Mike in ramping up the intensity of the piece, and it's a beautiful sight to see both men hunched over the instrument, their fingers flying over the keys, complementing each other perfectly. Edward pours himself into the music, moving swiftly back to the higher scale, while Mike fills in the harmony.

Edward's open joy in that moment is a revelation. It's almost as though I'm seeing him clearly for the first time. There's no filter of family or friends, no school or work or expectations. I only see the man, and it just pierces through my heart… without a shadow of doubt, I know that I love him.

I love his joy, the light in his eyes, and the intensity of his soul.

And the way his ass looks in those blue jeans, bobbing up and down as he stands hunched over the piano is kind of hot as well. I appreciate the view wholeheartedly.

They bring the song to a close with a very 'Edward' flourish, and both men straighten up and acknowledge the applause with nods and smiles. I'm amused to see that a fist bump is all the acknowledgement they need to give each other.

I stand, my heart pounding so loudly, I'm sure the people around me can hear it. Almost immediately, Edward turns towards me, as though aware of my location even in this crowd of people. A dazzling smile spreads over his features when he sees me for the first time in two weeks.

Ignoring the other passengers, who are still fawning over him, he walks over and hugs me tight. For a moment, nothing exists but the two of us. A feeling of completeness washes over me.

I can't resist smirking up at him like the smartass I am. "So, did you just drop by to play the piano?"

He steps back, looking a little embarrassed, but doesn't let go entirely.

"I couldn't take it anymore," he says, looking apologetic, though why he would want to apologize for giving me the best surprise of my life, I don't know. "I was trying my best to be a good friend and give you time and space and all that, but did you really need to email me details of every single guy who tried to hit on you? Geez girl, I thought I made it clear how I felt about you."

"What? I tried to tell you as much as possible so that you wouldn't miss me too much." That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

"All it did was make me miss you more. When I couldn't take it anymore, I bought a ticket, called in a few favors and got two weeks off. I promise I won't dog your heels or cramp your style. But maybe if you let me, we could intersect at a few places? I mean, we could meet up a few times while you're in Amsterdam, and then in Berlin, and so on? If I can just see you and reassure myself, it'll keep me from going completely crazy. I promise I won't…"

He would have rambled on for hours, by the sound of it, and it was completely unnecessary. So, I cut him off with a kiss, every bit as hot as the one he had sent me off with.

Considering that we had only kissed once before, it's quite ridiculous how much I missed the taste of his lips. I missed the feel of his soft hair under my fingertips and his rough stubble on my cheek. I missed the warmth of his hard, muscled chest, and the feeling of comfort and home I get the moment he wraps me up in his strong arms. I can't express all the things he makes me feel in words, so I try to show him with my lips. I think he understands; we are demanding, aggressive, playful and tender all at once. Can a kiss be so much? I wouldn't have thought so, but that was before Edward.

When I finally pull back, he looks at me with so much love that it steals my breath as surely as he steals my heart.

"You're coming with me," I state, not leaving room for argument.

"What, just like that? I had a plan, you know. An insidious, convoluted, devious plan to gradually break down your defenses and get you to travel with me," he chuckles.

I roll my eyes and smile, absently drawing a series of small hearts with my fingertip over his heart. I think he realizes it a moment before I do, because he stills, and smiles, even as I whisper, "I love you."

I barely notice the crestfallen look Mike shoots us as he gathers his bags and shuffles off. It doesn't last, of course. He's taken perhaps four steps when this perky young thing, all short shorts and unnaturally shiny hair, accosts him. I would say something insightful about how she's exuding the 'let's get laid' hormone by the bucketful, and how Mike's got that wolfish 'I'm getting lucky' look in response; but the fact is, I don't particularly care. I'm much too busy kissing the man I have loved for a year, the man who loves me enough to let me go live my dreams, and to follow me wherever I go.

We're interrupted by the echoing announcement for my… _our_ train to Amsterdam. As we quickly gather our things and run to the platform, I can't stop smiling. I get the feeling that loving Edward will be the best adventure I've ever had.


End file.
